


Stand By Me

by cordelia_gray



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Community: salt_burn_porn, Disco, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Pining, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelia_gray/pseuds/cordelia_gray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel/Balthazar, with implied Balthazar/others, references to Dean/Cas and Sam/Dean/Cas. Written in under 24 hours for the salt_burn_porn challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand By Me

The war is going badly, still.

Heaven is tearing itself apart, molecule by molecule; vast ripples of energy sweep across the celestial realm, destroying and distorting all in their wake. Wavelengths of light crackle and flash and spark, and sometimes go dim forever.

Castiel mourns each of them as they go out, his fallen siblings: those who fight against him no less than those who fight beside him. Of all the possible consequences of his choice to stand with the Winchesters, he had not considered civil war. Nonetheless, it has happened, it was inevitable, and he does not shirk his duty.

He never has, though there are those who would debate that point.

He finds Balthazar easily enough, once he looks. He’s in Venice, in the 19th Century, holed up in a pink marble palazzo with a couple of blond young men, English expatriates perhaps, and a beautiful woman with long, dark hair. The three of them are tumbled in a sleepy tangle of limbs and silken sheets on a large, four-poster bed, while Balthazar, naked but for the amulet around his neck, gazes out the window of the room. The muffled sound of Carnival revellers surges beyond the window, restless as the sea. Still, he hears the feathery rustle of Castiel’s arrival, and turns, a crystal goblet full of something the colour of rubies in his hand.

“You found me,” he says, setting the wineglass down and walking toward Castiel.

“Come back with me, Balthazar.” Castiel asks. “I need you, we need you, and the things you took. Stand with me in Heaven, brother, as you did before.”

Balthazar saunters towards him on silent bare feet, his hips swaying a little as he moves. He is graceful and sinuous, the movement emphasizing the long lines of his flanks, the way his penis, soft at the moment, swings just a little with each step. Castiel stares, fascinated, his gaze caught by so small a thing, and yet not so small after all, as it begins to swell under his regard.

“Hush, you’ll wake the children” he says, reaching a hand out and laying a finger on Castiel’s lips.

Castiel shivers.

The room is warm, heated by a fire in a large fireplace with an ornate marble mantel, lit by flickering candles, and full of the smell of sex, and something sweeter, a heavy scent Castiel thinks is opium.

“You like this, don’t you,” he growls, anger roughening his voice. “You like being low, being down here in the dirt with these humans you treat like toys.” He gestures at the debauched trio on the bed, the jumbled detritus of their bacchanal, the pipes and wineglasses and empty plates.

“On the contrary, my dear, I like being high.” Balthazar smiles, slow and sinful, and picks up a pipe from the mantel, gesturing towards Castiel. “You should try it sometime.”

Castiel recoils, knocking the pipe from his hand. The room’s air feels saturated with the smoke, he can’t think through the thick, cloying scent.

“You don’t approve?” Balthazar asks, with an arched eyebrow.

“No.” Castiel replies, looking away from the nude figure in front of him.

“Of course not. My vices are so much worse than yours, arent't they?” Baltahzar chuckles. “You lose yourself just as I do, Castiel.” He leans in closer, sliding an elegant, manicured hand up Castiel’s arm. “You numb the pain with alcohol and meat, and liaisons with your own human toys, do you not?” he murmurs in Castiel’s ear.

“Which of the two do you prefer? It’s Dean, isn’t it?” Castiel can feel his body flushing, prickly heat sweeping over him. He jerks back, away from that insinuating hand. “Or maybe both together. Brothers, Cas - now that is kinky. Maybe there’s some hope for you yet.”

“I don’t – it’s not like that.” Castiel grits out. He’s pretty sure it isn’t like that, though he can’t deny a picture flashes behind his eyes at Balthazar’s words. Himself, naked, with – NO. Just no.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” There’s a mocking light in those blue eyes, something fierce and unreasonable. “Would you get on your knees for them, let them use you, fuck you? Let him get his human filth all…”

“ENOUGH!” Castiel grabs Balthazar, shoves him at light speed across the room, slamming his back into a marble pillar. Balthazar hisses at the impact, at the feel of the cold stone against his naked back.

“You do not get to speak of them that way.” Cas growls, his face inches from his brother’s, his arm across his throat pinning him in place. “You owe them, Balthazar. This freedom you are squandering so recklessly on pleasure, you owe it all to Dean Winchester and his brother. You do not get to speak of them.” And he does the only thing he can think of to shut up that voice, to stop the flow of images into his mind: he closes the narrow gap between their faces, and presses his lips to Balthazar’s.

Balthazar resists for a moment, stiffening against Castiel’s restraining hands. But Cas holds firm, his angel-strength more than a match for Balthazar’s now that he is cut off from Heaven. Balthazar relaxes into the kiss, slanting his head for better access, parting his lips for Castiel’s tongue.

They break apart after a moment, panting slightly. Castiel can feel the heat coming from the naked body beneath his, even through his human clothing. He can feel every inch of hard, naked flesh pressed against him, Balthazar’s amulet digging into his arm still pressed across his brother’s throat.

He can feel desire surging through his vessel. Jimmy’s soul is long gone, but his body remembers, still has needs and drives and urges, and right now, it is urging Castiel to let it bury itself deep within the warm flesh in front of it. Castiel can also feel, muted through the layers of vessels they are wearing but present nonetheless, the touch of Balthazar’s grace against his own, the crackle of energy on some other plane, above and behind the one they stand in.

Balthazar’s eyes are on him now, very blue, very still. “You’ve been practicing that,” he says, voice roughened a little with desire.

“I kissed a demon,” Castiel admits, stepping back a little and releasing Balthazar from his hold. “Did you?” he breathes, not stepping back at all. “You naughty boy.” And he crowds close to Castiel, kissing him until he’s breathless and dizzy and shaking with the glory of it.

Balthazar’s hands are on him everywhere, shucking him of his uniform – the jacket, the tie, the shirt – until he is naked as Balthazar is, pale skin gleaming in the candlelight. “Please.” Castiel says, not knowing what he’s asking for, what happens next, only that his vessel is shaking with needwantnow, and his grace, his angel-body, is thrumming with a matching urgency, reflected in the storm which has blown up outside, wind and rain lashing the city, the revellers taking shelter indoors, as lighting flashes across the sky. Castiel knows he shouldn’t be doing this, it’s such a basic mistake, the thing everyone learns to control on their first mission. But he can’t help it, he feels wild and out of control, the lightning flashes matching his mood. On the bed beyond, Balthazar’s companions stir and murmur, but do not wake.

“That’s all right, love, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Balthazar is murmuring, stroking his body, rubbing against like a cat. He presses Castiel’s shoulders back against the marble pillar. “Stay there.” His eyes bore into Castiel’s for a moment, electric blue and sparking.

Cas stays.

Balthazar slides to his knees before Cas, and presses kisses into his belly, his hips, his thighs, little teasing nips and licks, until Castiel feels like he is coming undone. He buries his hands in Balthazar’s hair, tugging him forward. Balthazar chuckles again, but he stops teasing.

He opens his mouth and slides it over the head of Castiel’s cock.

Castiel cries out with the pleasure of it, the intense shock of warmwettightperfect. He thrusts his hips forward, the flesh taking over. He has never done this, but the body remembers, knows what this feeling is. Balthazar holds on to his hips, and lets Castiel thrust into his mouth, over and over, waves of pleasure building until they peak, and crest, and ecstasy washes over Castiel in a spasm. The muscles pulse, and pulse, spilling thick fluid into Balthazar’s mouth, and Castiel shudders and is still, tension draining from him, the sound of thunder dying away.

He’s panting, chest heaving as though he’s run marathon. He gazes down into Balthazar’s eyes. For a moment, his brother looks as wrecked as Castiel feels, lips swollen and hair spiked, breath coming in deep gasps. He glances away for a moment, breaking eye contact. When he looks up again, the familiar smirk is back in place, whatever emotion had been shining through now shuttered. “I won’t stand for you, Castiel, but I will lie down for you, whenever you want.”

Castiel is suddenly overwhelmed by all of it, the sensations overloading him. He needs to be away from here, and in the blink of an eye he is, the pieces of Jimmy’s uniform reattaching themselves as he goes.

The next time he wants to find Balthazar, it’s just as easy.

He’s in a club, this time. It’s New York, a few decades back. The club pulses with the driving beat of music, lights pulsing in time to the rhythm. “I soon found out, I had a heart of glass,” a woman’s voice sings.

The place is packed with bodies, everyone in bright colours and loud patterns and shiny jewellery. They’re dancing, something wild and Bacchanalian, bodies writhing and twisting. Castiel is somehow able to find Balthazar in the crowd, despite the throngs. He’s wearing jeans and a loose white shirt, open to the middle of his chest. His face looks different, too, and Cas decides that he must be wearing makeup, something dark smudged around his eyes. They look arresting: smoky, sensual, a little wary.

“You found me again!” Balthazar says, putting his lips to Castiel’s ear so that he can be heard above the driving beat. “If you didn’t want me to find you, you could always take this off.” Castiel touches the amulet around Balthazar’s neck, revealed by his open shirt. Balthazar’s hand comes up and closes over Castiel’s, around the necklace. He smiles then. “Where would be the fun in that?” he says, pulling Castiel off the dance floor, towards what is revealed to be a bathroom. It’s a little quieter there, although Castiel can’t help but be a little distracted by the activities of the bathroom’s occupants.

“You left me all alone with my erection, you know,” Balthazar says, pulling him into a slightly more private corner. “It was very rude.”

“You had your companions, did you not?” Castiel inquires.

“Well, yes, and they were very sweet, but not the same thing at all. You’re supposed to reciprocate, you know.”

Castiel doesn’t respond to that.

“Come back with me, Balthazar,” he says, touching his friend’s cheek. “Stand with me in Heaven, as you did before.”

“I know I promised you eternal love, Castiel,” he says, lowering his gaze, “And I even meant it, for a while. But the world, Cas, it’s so big, and free, and full of possibility. I can’t go back to that sterile place.” There’s something almost pleading in his eyes when he looks up again.

Castiel sighs. “I should go,” he says. “I don’t even know why I came here.”

Balthazar smiles, a wicked grin which stirs something not unpleasant in Castiel’s groin. “I think you should wait a while before you leave. I think you need to learn to give pleasure as well as to receive it, if you’re going to be doing this sort of thing.”

Castiel knows how urgently he is needed, in how many places. But he doesn’t resist as Balthazar pulls him into a embrace, allows himself to be kissed and to kiss back.

“Not here, though,” he says, looking around their surroundings. “There’s local colour, and then there’s squalid and uncomfortable.” He pulls them in breath out of that room and into another: still in the club, the pounding beat as loud as ever. But this is a private booth, cushioned benches and velvet curtains blocking the view of the other patrons. There are a few people lounging on the cushions, scantily clad, and inhaling something white and powdery from the table.

“Sorry, loves, I need the booth for a while,” Balthazar tells them, and they scatter languidly into the crowd. Balthzar inhales a little of the white powder, and offer some to Castiel. He tastes it, on his tongues, sharp and sparkly and bitter. Cocaine, he thinks, and brushes the rest of it aside.

Balthazar slips the loose shirt off, revealing his muscular chest, and his jeans follow. He’s naked beneath, and Castiel begins to follow, but Balthazar stops him. “Let me” he says, reaching for Castiel’s jacket. He removes it, and the tie, and unbuttons the shirt, but leaves it on. He unbuckles the belt on Castiel’s pants, and pushes them down, so that Castiel’s cock springs free. He positions Cas against the cushions, just so, and leans over to kiss him again, slowly and thoroughly.

“Touch me,” he says, and Castiel does, running his hands over Balthazar’s chest, reaching down and grasping his cock firmly in his hand. It feels heavy and hot, iron-hard and yet velvet smooth, somehow unlike anything Castiel has felt before. He’s rewarded the hitching, shallow breaths his companion gives, the little thrusts he can’t quite stop himself from making into Castiel’s hand.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and breathes, “Keep going,” he says. Castiel is momentarily confused, but Balthzar guides his hand lower, down his body, until he is cupping the velvety weight of his balls. It is a strange sensation, and Castiel would like to explore it, but his hand is being guided lower still, into the hot crevice beneath. “That’s it,” Balthar says, voice now a breathy moan. “Put your finger inside me,” he says, and Castiel does. He slides his finger into the hot, tight muscle at the back of Balthazar’s body.

Balthazar’s eyes flutter shut with a little moan. Castiel has never been inside someone like this – souls, yes; bodies, no. It feels so strangely intimate he doesn’t know what to to, but again his vessel seems to take over, and he pushes his finger deeper inside, and then another. After a moment, Balthazar pulls back. He slides his own hand into his mouth, licking his fingers so they are wet and glistening. Castiel is so distracted by the sight that he is completely taken by surprise when Balthazar slides them into himself, eyes locked on Castiel the whole time. He slides lower for a moment, and takes Castiel into his mouth again, licking him until his cock, too, is slick and glistening. And then he raises back up.

“Hold on,” he says, “This is the good part.” And he slides Castiel into that incredible heat and tightness, and it’s all Castiel can do to hold on, gripping Balthazar’s arms until the flesh is bruised, as he slowly lowers himself down until he is sitting in Castiel’s lap, Castiel’s dick buried deep inside his body. The sensation is strange and overwhelming and toogoodtoomuch, but Balthazar says, “Just breathe now” and they pause for a moment. “Does it feel good?” Castiel asks, because the expression on Balthazar’s face could be pain as well as pleasure, but he says “Yes, it does. You feel so good.”

And then he begins to move.

Castiel thought his mouth was amazing, but this is beyond that, connection and pleasure such as he has not felt in these earthly realms before, waves of it washing over and through and around him, sparks of grace energy dancing on his skin, and Balthazar’s.

He moves above Castiel, and Castiel thrusts up to meet him, and he is lost in the sensations, adrift, anchored in this place and time. For once he is not aware of the battles, the distant cries of his brothers, the prayers of humans, None of it matters: he ceases to think: he only feels.

It lasts forever, and only a few moments, and Balthazar is wrapping Castiel’s hand around his cock. And then he is coming, semen spurting thick and hot through Castiel’s fingers and across his chest. Castiel can feel the it, the muscles clenching around him, and he follows Balthazar into orgasm, light sparking around them as they fall.

After, Castiel looks into his lover's eyes. "Stand with me in Heaven?" he says, because he can't help himself. Balthazar looks back, smile quirking his lips. "Ask me again tomorrow," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://community.livejournal.com/salt_burn_porn/profile)[**salt_burn_porn**](http://community.livejournal.com/salt_burn_porn/) , written in less than 24 hours and unbeta'd and unproofread due to lack of time. Feel free to point out any mistakes :) This was my third time being tagged this round: I was working the first time and had to pass, and the second I miscalculated the time and had to tag out with a half-written fic (which I will post at some point). So I was determined to post something this time, no matter how rough. And this is pretty rough, but here it is. [ **someblazingstar** ](http://someblazingstar.livejournal.com/) gave me two prompts: "like being low," or "dangerous liaisons". Somehow the combination of those made me think of Castiel/Balthazar, so here is 2500 words of angelsmut. IDEK, it seemed like a good idea at the time :)


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